When It Doesn't Fit (Smack It)
by LockerMates
Summary: Destiny sings in strange ways, and all it takes are two switched demigods to cause another world disaster. (Or: In which Jason was always Greek and Percy was born Roman, and neither side knows what to do with either of them.)
1. Chapter 1

**Greeks**

"Damn it, Annabeth, _hurry_!" Thalia shouted, the wind whipping her frizzy hair across her distraught face. A strand or two entered her mouth, and she spat it out in disgust. It tasted like stale pizza, which was unsurprising, given that it was all they had managed to forage in the past few weeks.

"It's not me!" Annabeth scowled. "Grover's gone." Luke nodded in the affirmative from where he was running beside her.

"Well, where _is_ he? I swear, if he stopped to get a tin can from the trash _again_…." Thalia left the threat hanging in the air. Suddenly, a roar bellowed out in the distance, and a look of panic struck across Thalia's face. "Jason!" she screamed, fear seeping into her voice. "My brother, where is he?"

Annabeth furrowed her brows and started to answer, but before she could, a pained shriek erupted some ways back, and the aforementioned boy himself came flying up, tugging a furry behind by its hooves.

"Sorry," he panted heavily. "Cyclops." He managed an uncertain smile, "Please don't ask."

Luke gave a half-smirk at his almost-twin. "You're telling me all about it lat—"

"No time to waste!" Annabeth interjected, sprinting to catch up with Thalia's fast pace. "Come on!"

Suddenly, out of the blue, a hellhound bounded up in front of the group, teeth bared and drool flying. Thalia let out a squeal that she will later deny to have ever left her lips. "...damn." she cursed.

"Whatever," she grimaced and took a swipe at the slobber on her upper sleeve, "Annabeth, and the rest of you slobs! We'll have to dodge this bad boy!"

"Or," Jason suggested, "we initiate the plan me and Grover just thought up." Thalia rolled her eyes acquiescently.

Grover bleated, "_You_ thought up!" At the same time Annabeth corrected, "Grover and _I._"

Jason ignored both comments and grabbed Grover's hands to fling him forward.

"You ready?" Jason grinned, before promptly swinging the terrified satyr.

Luke raised a hand to his forehead and whistled. "Would you look at that, Hercules?"

Airborne, Grover floundered and released an unmanly cry, before scrambling over to the nearest tree. Rather, the only tree existing on the hill the demigods were currently scaling. The hellhound licked its lips and got ready to pounce.

Grover yelled, "You owe me for this, _twice_."

Jason murmured absentmindedly, "Yeah, I'll sacrifice a sheep or two in your honor," ignoring Grover's horrified screech.

At that moment, the monster jumped, and Jason shot forward, parting Thalia's hair with the force of the wind. He grabbed Grover by his arms, and the two got out of the way just before the heavy impact. The hellhound, unable to change its collision course, charged into the tree, causing the thick splinter of ancient wood and the tremble of the hill from its very base.

Black hair, sharp fangs, and piercing eyes then disintegrated into golden dust, fluttering gently on the dark green lawn.

A low rumble came from behind, and Thalia turned around just in time to see the other monsters advancing on them. "Shoot! Shake that awestruck look, Luke! We need to scram!" She then started towards the camp, but not after witnessing Annabeth grab the dumbstruck Luke by the hand and pulling him along. Before her, she could see Jason and Grover fly towards the safer areas, albeit unsteadily, with a kind of uncertainty that sent shudders down her spine.

Once upon a time, three runaway demigods and an enchilada-obsessed satyr wouldn't have been able to cross the barrier and, as a result, spawned angst for the ages to come. But this time, with four demigods, one with the precious ability to fly (but not much else), they made it out more than okay.

As it were, the five kids, well, four and a full-fledged satyr, stumbled across the border and, in their triumph, face planted the soil and passed out.

Into view came a pair of smelly feet. Thalia, exhausted beyond measure, glanced up at the hard face of the rugged girl that stood before her. Then she succumbed to the darkness, but not before hearing the words that came out of the girl's mouth.

"Well, well. If it isn't the Prince and the Princess, with their entire escortee. Tell me, did you know that you just crashed a hellhound into a tree that _just so happened to be the one keeping this camp monster-free_?"

Throughout it all, none of the unconscious half-bloods notice the image of a thunderbolt flashing above two of their heads.

Fin.

**. . . . .**

Meanwhile, deep below the countless layers of bedrock, a dark figure brooded silently on his murky green Throne of Tortured Souls TM Limited Edition. It was hard to appreciate the cold comforts these days, and the FUN co. (Feed Us Now) brought up the latest tech as always. Still, the built-in cup sipper was a bit too much. Not to mention the Toenail Remover.

"Oh Zeus, how unfair of you," he sighs, crossing his legs and rolling his eyes upwards towards the pompous bastard, who rumbled the skies in response. "Snatched the golden title from Poseidon and I, stole the hearts of the people of Greece, and _now_… sent your precious, little, cheery children to Camp Halfblood? Outrageous!"

He snapped, bringing his clenched fist upon the armrest in a solid thud, which resulted, unfortunately, in a rather thick cloud of dust and chipped furniture. Not that things were going so well anyways. Zeus brings his clouds grumbling again in the realm above, and Hades shouts out sarcastically, "Well, sorry!"

He slouches back down, defeated. "What is the world coming to?"

Alecto piped up from in front of him, licking her lips. "Retaliate then, my lord. You, too, have children, do you not?"

"Well, yes. Yes, I do," Hades brightens noticeably, an unfamiliar light reaching his eyes. It darkens, though, as he realizes his obstructions. "But I cannot bring them now. Zeus will—"

"Forgive the intrusion, my lord," Alecto cackled, proving beyond doubt that she was the most cracked of her sisters. "But why do you think the King of the Gods brought out his children so readily?"

Hades frowned. "I'm not stupid, Alecto. I know it's because of the most recent thievery. Can't see what he's complaining about since _my_ symbol was also…" He trailed off, a theory forming in his mind.

"Stolen?" Alecto supplied. "It would only make sense that your children honor their father by reclaiming his power, does it not? Since Lord Zeus himself is doing the same thing…"

Hades had half a notion to rub his hands together in maniacal glee, but he dismissed the idea. That could happen later, when he was in the privacy of his own room. Here, he had a reputation to uphold.

"Fetch your sisters, Alecto. We have some documents to forge."

Fin.

**. . . . .**

**Romans**

There was a lot to be said about running on the highway, especially if you're running with wolves. Or maybe it was running from wolves. In Percy's defense, he was kind of doing both. There was a strange beast-y panting coming from behind him, but Percy _really_ didn't want to meet the Minotaur again, so he didn't bother to turn around. And even then, the wolves were nipping at his heels, though when he last checked, they were supposed to be on _his_ side.

_Pathetic._

Percy scowled at the sudden interference in his mind. It wasn't his fault! To be honest, he didn't even know what he was being scolded for!

_Of course it is. Your scent._

Well that was crisp, clear, and to the point. There was an urge to scream out that this particular monster just wouldn't leave him alone but Percy resisted, mainly because he would only wind up with a mouthful of bugs. Cursing, he jumped into the next lane as a honking car came too close for comfort.

_And you're slow. My pack can run at 40 miles per hour for a whole day._

Percy almost wished he could tell the smug wolf goddess to _shut up_, because she really wasn't helping with his concentration. For gods' sake, he was full out sprinting right now! Lupa can just shove it up her—

_Grrrr_.

Okay! Running! Totally running! No inappropriate thoughts here, no siree. Percy flung himself to the side as another car passed him by, the driver clearly screeching profanity. _Stupid 12-year-old running on the highway! I'm late!_

Where was he? Oh yeah. There was a lot to be said about someone running on the highway, but they all seem to wind up as one collective thought: _You're flipping _crazy_, mate._

So it was with great relief that Percy finally spotted the hill up ahead. On the other side was the camp, the hope for his future if he could just make it there in one piece! _Easier said than done_, Percy thought sourly, _almost_ squealing when he felt a great gust of breath on his shoulder. The Minotaur!

With a burst of adrenaline that Percy originally thought was nonexistent, he scrambled up the hill in a mad dash. A loud roar sounded behind him, and suddenly, Percy could smell rawhide and vile trash. Gross.

At the top of the hill, Percy faced his final obstacle. There had to be a faster way down. Percy never paid attention to physics or anything like that, but he knew the Minotaur was a lot heavier than he was. As in barreling-down-the-hill kind of heavy, the kind of heavy that Percy wasn't. There was no way he could make it down first unless...Ah-ha!

Percy sent his praise to whichever god was listening at the sight of a ruddy old car door leaning on a bush. It was a little torn and bent, and Percy had no idea how it even _got_ up there, but he wasn't going to complain.

He grimaced, looking down at steep slope he was going to sled on. He could hear Lupa's taunting laugh in the back of his head, but this was an all or nothing. Ignoring the bellowing of the mad cow and the amused barks of the pack (no doubt they were waiting for his next "Percy Idea" and wanting to see how spectacularly it failed), Percy sucked in a deep breath.

And threw himself off the cliff, car door in tow.

The thing about sledding in something that was not a sled, was that it was terrifying. Percy would have nightmares from the shrill shriek as the car door tore downhill, scraping the rocks protruding from its surface. Not to mention the glass shards that flew off and nearly poked his eye out. To make matters worse, the wind buffeted his face, and he couldn't exactly see either.

Never had he been so glad a ride was over. As summoned by his thoughts, a trumpet blew in the distance, a war cry, and Percy almost thought it sounded triumphant. It was probably just him, since, mere moments later, he found himself faced with the Roman cavalry composed of teenagers sporting full-blown armor. They were armed with weapons and towered above him in perfect formation. No doubt, Mr. Brunner would've been mighty proud.

Percy gingerly picked himself up, and gave the befuddled army a grin. "'Sup," he croaked, lifting his hand in a quick greeting, before reaching over to one of the kids. "Lemme borrow that for a sec." He grinned at the outraged protests and grabbed a shield from the unsuspecting warrior, whose jaw slacked and dropped open.

Without further ado, he swiftly blew a sharp, New-York-styled cab whistle, and watched in amusement as the brute of a Minotaur came tearing down the mountain, moo-ing its rage for all to hear.

"Catch!" he called, flinging the shield like a frisbee. He watch gleefully as the metal hit, and the Minotaur bent down to sniff at it. Then, he turned back to the phalanx, skillfully ignoring their widened eyes.

"I need to borrow a sword."

Stunned, a nearby kid numbly handed him the weapon. "Thanks, man." He gave him a little pat on the shoulder, before whipping back around to face the Minotaur.

Percy marched over to the monster, who was still puzzling over why the metal smelt like so much prey. So engrossed was it that it didn't even realize that Percy had walked up behind it, clutching the car door and the sword.

With a yell, Percy slammed the car door (which now had an opening where the window _should've_ been) over the monster's head and kicked it onto the shield. Then the law of gravity and inertia brought the beast all the way down to the bottom, where it could be skewered by a mob of teenagers holding really pointy sticks.

The Minotaur struggled to stand up, but a combination of motion sickness and trapped-in-car-door-ness made sure it didn't get very far. Cheerfully, Percy strolled down the hill, twirling the sword in hand and whistling for good measure.

When he reached the bottom, Percy happily stabbed his newly acquired sword through the Minotaur's raging eyes, causing the large mass of fur and muscle to erupt and fade into golden dust.

With a grin, he spun around to face the dumbstruck Romans. "So." he began. "What are you fellas doing out here?"

Fin.

(A/N: Questions, Comments, Opinions or Turkeys?)


	2. Chapter 2

At Camp Half-Blood, it quickly became obvious to anyone with eyes that there was a civil war going on. Okay, perhaps 'war' is too harsh. But one could not deny that there was _someone(s)_ terrorizing the streets of Demi-ville

Meet Thalia Grace and Clarisse LaRue: the Frenemies.

Any thinking observers (read: Annabeth) would notice that the two girls were uncannily similar in many things; most notably their attitudes, their approach to feminism, and their fighting abilities. Should our thinking observer ever bring this up in the company of either of the girls, he or she will either wind up with a broken nose (Thalia: punch first and seek revenge later) or a dislocated shoulder (Clarisse: hold them down until they apologize). Fortunately, Annabeth also coupled her observations with common sense and confronted neither of them*.

It was for this reason of the brewing war that the Blondie Brigade (Jason, Luke and a reluctant Annabeth, who preferred the Trifecta Blondes) often stayed clear of their esteemed honorary Not-Blond member when War Girl appeared in their field of view. It was either that or be in the center when the sparks fly.

And when sparks fly, they _flew_. First it came with some questionably good-natured ribbing, where Thalia's hair would frizz over just that slightest bit and Clarisse's sneer would look more like a snarl. When Thalia's hair and fingertips began emitting sparks, or Clarisse grip would shatter the unlucky Mug of the Week, then it was time to duck for cover.

Despite this, and as long as they noticed these 'tells', the campers lived with some semblance of a harmony. Until the children of Hades arrived.

...Maybe 'arrived' is the wrong word.

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, when the Frenemies had yet to catch sight of each other. Then eardrums were nearly busted as _someone_ decided it was immensely urgent to hook the end of the conch horn to the friggin' _bicycle pump_ and pump. As. Hard. As. They. Could.

Once everyone recovered to the sounds of a dying whale, that same _someone_ decided that running into the Pavillion screeching at the top of their lungs that 'the monsters are coming! THE MONSTER'S ARE COMING!' was the next best choice of action. (Now at this point, no one had much love for this _someone_, who was never seen again)

Dutifully (and offering many chosen words; the worst, strangely came from Annabeth) the campers looked up to see the three Furies hovering over the barrier. Before anyone could properly panic, the worst possible thing happened.

The Frenemies have arrived. And two-thirds the Blondie Brigade (who decided to sleep in...boys), but they weren't as important.

You see, the reason why the Frenemies were called the Frenemies and not the 'You-Will-_Die_' was because the two girls had a habit of banding together when they deemed it necessary. Apparently, the arrival of three hissing and spitting Furies was in the category of 'Very Necessary Indeed'. Invigorated, Thalia shouted, "You slobbering dog-eared booby foot!" At Clarisse's skeptical glance, she shrugged. "What? Annabeth read me Shakespeare." The other half of the Frenemies, not to be bested, cupped her hand around her mouth and inhaled. "You're just a buncha lumpy kneecaps!"

Chiron nearly had a heart attack.

The Furies responded to these warcries by dropping two bundles into the camp, which contained several hysterical demigods who were certain that they were about to get nuked.

It was quite a pleasant surprise, then, when these two bundles turned out to be two unconscious kids, with the symbol of fear** burning the air above them.

Fin.

* * *

Hades was smarter than anyone could've imagined.

Well, Poseidon probably had some ideas***, but they were often dispelled when his brother let out a particularly creepy and high-pitched giggle. These notions were then dismissed as the ramblings about a mad man. It's hard to be sane these days.

But the point was, Hades managed to kill three birds with one stone. So pleased was he by this, that he made a list depicting the three birds that he'd killed. Figuratively, of course. Then you looked at the scattered feathers hanging off the bloody lips of each of the Furies, and you'd realize that 'literally' wouldn't have been far off, either.

THE LIST (by the Malignant Ruler of the Underworld):

Nico and Bianca arrived at camp.

Nico and Bianca arrived at camp by _air_ travel (well, held up by their armpits as the Furies flew, but air, schmair) right under Zeus's nose!

After the Furies dropped his children off at camp, they bought some sushi!111!one! (Hades hadn't had those in a century!)

This was one of the moments when Poseidon would considered clapping his bro on the back, but then change his mind and back away slowly.

The wonders of family, everyone.

* * *

When Bianca first woke, it was to incessant sunbeams and a Prince Charming at her bedside. The scene would be awfully romantic, only her Prince was snoring the day away, spittle gathering at the corner of his mouth.

On the bed right next to her, a small boy was dwarfed by the white linen sheets. A mop of black hair poked out of the small bundle, and Bianca almost smiled.

Yawning quietly, she went back to sleep.

Bianca eventually woke up again, and this time there's inane chatter and sound of the plastic slapping against plastic.

"Go Dionysus! Drunken tackle!"

Honestly, she wasn't surprised when the chatterbox sounds like her little brother. It figured, really.

"Nico," she groaned, head throbbing. "Shut up."

Now the babbles were going right into her ear, and Bianca's vision swam dangerously. She cracked open an eyelid to look at her brother, whose beaming face was almost as bright as Prince Charming's hair. Speaking of Prince Charming, the guy was absentmindedly fiddling with one of Nico's action figures. Her attention was quickly drawn back to Nico when two hands shook her shoulders.

_Honestly_, Bianca thought, slipping her eye closed again, _she wasn't even out that long_.

She woke up again immediately, though, because Nico, under the assumption that she fainted, immediately panicked and almost, _almost_ started bawling.

* * *

MythoMagic. Gods-damned _MythoMagic_

"Yay. Aphrodite. Kiss of Beauty." Nevermind how impossible the last part _was_. Even with the disappointed frown he received from Nico, Jason really couldn't care less. It was humiliating, really, to be grabbing a very voluptuous (he blames Annabeth for the fact that he knows that word) figure of the Love Goddess herself. Nico didn't press the issue though, and simply beat up love with wine.

Jason was tired of this game. Sure, it was interesting in the beginning (especially since he got Zeus, who dealt massive damage), but now he wanted to burn all the figurines. All. Of. Them. For goodness' sakes how many renditions (Annabeth) of the same match-ups can there be? Aphrodite has already kissed Dionysus, smacked him, got smacked _by_ him, and ended up playing poker with him (Nico was inspired by the camp director himself).

This is what hell is like, most likely.

Nico, oblivious to other's dissatisfaction, merely gave a very content nod. "Now," he explained, "by acting it out again and again, the logistics (Goddamn Annabeth) of the next battle show that Afro-dite will have a heart attack." He gave his purple god action figure a little wiggle. "I challenge you to a duel, Afro-dite!"

Jason groaned. "Aphrodite," he pronounced for the twenty-third time. "Aphrodite." He hated Afro-dite in that moment for having such a hard name. He hated Dionysus for reveling in this; he hated Nico for everything; Hades, he hated Annabeth for making him know how to enunciate. Luke would pay for laughing at him, and Thalia, Jason was going to take her flying for assigning him to babysitting duty. They will regret this, oh, they will _regret_.

Still, he gave the busty model a shake, and went "Urk." The plastic doll went limp, having died of a heart attack (presumably).

Nico clapped his hands and gave his most sage approval. "Again!"

There was a barely there sigh, and Jason looked up imploringly at Bianca, who pointedly glanced away.

Jason slumped onto the table. Friggin' _Hades._

* * *

Jason's reprieve came two days later. By then, Bianca finally deemed herself ready to walk on her own (never mind that there never was a problem with her legs; she probably just liked the beds and the free babysitting) and the two children of Hades were promptly swept to see the orientation film. Jason smiled. That was a really gory film (somewhat).

He spent his free day doing everything he had ever wanted to do.

He had a water balloon fight with Luke until one of their stray balloons smacked Thalia and caused her to accidently-on-purpose shock the two of them. He then went off with Thalia to do sibling stuff, which involved chilling out in their cabin mostly. The rest of the afternoon consisted of avoiding Annabeth, avoiding the Athena cabin (there was no doubt that Annabeth belonged there), and avoiding the Hermes cabin (that Luke moved into, who knew?).

So it was during all of this evasion that Jason found himself resting near the lake. His feet were bare on the grass, and his eyes were closed. The sun played shapes on the backs of his eyelids. There weren't any chirping birds, but it was nice.

Until someone rudely stepped in between him and the sun. Jason frowned, and absently tried to swat them away. His frown deepened when it didn't work.

Then something cracked ominously, and there was the hollow sound of escaping gas. A howling breeze tickled Jason's ears, and a dry heaving rasp. Jason wanted to tell this person to get their lungs checked, but he was interrupted before he could.

"Whaaat dooo yyyouu ssssseek?"

Without looking at the speaker, Jason replied, "Peace and quiet." He felt briefly guilty for snapping at a stranger, but he really wanted to be able to relax. Inwardly, he grimaced. The person sounded like gravel, the voice unusually thin and scratchy. What a serious throat problem.

The next words took him by surprise.

"_If peace is what you desire, and quiet what you seek_

_Then the war surrounding the land is of the most dire_

_You shall go west to face the god who has turned_

_You shall find what were stolen and see them safely returned_

_Four half-bloods from enemy kings must work together_

_Two of each, joined for worse or better._"

Jason shot up, eyes snapping open. He stared stubbornly at the loosely tied bandages, not looking any higher, before picking himself up and stumbling into a run. "Chiron!" he hollered. "Chiron! Thalia!"

It was proper protocol to freak out about prophecies; the orientation film mentioned that much.

The Crack Part:

The Oracle of Delphi stared impassively (or maybe not; it was hard to tell under all the wraps) at the boy's retreating back. After a while, it made a flourishing motion that removed some of the barely-there strands of hair and turned around. It then strutted back to the Big House, a staggering walk that gave quite a few watcher's nightmares.

"Biiiitch, plllleeeaasee," It hissed smugly under its breath. "Iiii prepaaaarre oooonne fffooor eeeeverrry ooocccaasiiooon." It was also really good at improv. No youngster demigod could outrun _its_ reaches.

* * *

*that being said, Annabeth's knowledge was indeed greatly beneficial to the camp's psychology course (aptly named, Why Does Mr. D Hate Us So?), so it would have been a waste not to share it at all. Thankfully, psychology was one subject both Frenemies avoided (it was either because of the eight-hundred pages textbook or the eight-hundred pages textbook), so Annabeth was able get a plaque carved with her findings.

This tome, called _Best Friend or Worst Enemy_, detailed the relationship between two like-minded individuals and their effects on the rest of the campers. As an added precaution, names were withheld—something that many campers were grateful for in the ransacking of '01 (21st century, mind you) in which the frenemies decided to hang out in Apollo's cabin (Psychology Headquarters, 6am to 7:30am) and gave many potential healers heart attacks. One passage from the said tome is as follows:

_Relationships function greatly on the give-and-take concept. At one moment, at least one-tenth of any population is experiencing the same emotion. Remember, as we mentioned before, "emotions" in this context refers to the basics, or the 4 F's (recap: Fear, Fury, Fun, and F**k). Due to the primal aspect of this, this one-tenth often relies on the other nine-tenth of the population to return back to homeostasis. Should two people be like-minded, they tend to experience the same F at the same moment, which serve to fuel the fire. This adds up to an explosive quality that cajoles them to turn on each other._

** running on the same idea as don't-call-monsters-by-their-name and names-have-power. For some undefinable reason, campers firmly believe that mentioning the name "Helm of Darkness" will call Had—AHHHHHHH! NOOOOO! AHHHH_HHH_! _AHHHHHH_!

***sadly, some of these dispelled notions involved overthrowing Zeus (Poseidon's pasttime in the olden days), so if you wonder why we don't have a democracy in Olympus, it's all because Hades laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

It was five minutes into the film, and Bianca's eyes began to close of their own will. Ten minutes, and her head was dropping. Fifteen, and she gave up.

It wasn't that the film as boring, per se-okay, it was totally because the film was boring. Bianca was aware of the world from the 1930s, and fairy tales, well, they aren't real. Even if every other scene was a beheading scene, true love wasn't something Bianca wanted to watch. Especially if it was love between satyrs and nymphs, which often turned out not to be love so much as a 'really bad decision'.

In her dream, Bianca stepped into a...boxing arena? It was like the ones she had seen in the TVs, all sharp shades and flashy lights, only in color. Confused, Bianca frowned and look to the wrestlers. It was strange, but she couldn't catch a clear glimpse of either of them. The one on the left was surrounded by crackles and flashes, which distorted his image at any given moment. The one to her right was covered by shadows, and seemed taller and like he was standing through platform.

A low chuckle formed from static, and the announcer began. "In the right corner, we have Mr. Paranoia, reigning champion of the Olympic Rings. In the left corner is his challenger, the esteemed Mr. Gloom! Let's begin!"

Instantly, the two were at each other's throat, hissing and scratching, shouting, "Give it back!" and punching all at once. Bewildered, Bianca tried to run away, only to turn right into another figure. This one had a microphone in his hand, and Bianca realized this was the announcer.

His bright eyes shimmered at her, and the his mouth formed silent words.

"_Just like children, no?"_

And Bianca sat up, eyes blinking as the film went through its 17th beheading scene. Underwater.

She needed to get to Chiron.

* * *

The atmosphere was tense, and Chiron was glancing nervously back and forth between the four Big Three children. Next to him, Annabeth was frowning (she was about to have an architectural design class!), hands crossed over her chest while Luke tried to cheer her up with his stinky sock puppets.

Thalia slammed her hands down. "Look," she gritted out. "I think we all know who stole the thunderbolt."

"No," Bianca interjected. "No, no you don't." Beside her, Nico slammed two action figures together.

Jason furrowed his brows. "Of course it was your father! You confirmed it in your dream!"

"That means _nothing_-"

"Children," Chiron cut in. "Let's not fight." Then he sighed. "Okay, what are the facts?"

Annabeth helpfully raised her hands, scowl still on her face. "The Masterbolt is missing, as is the Helm of Darkness. Lord Zeus and Lord Hades are about to engage in a conflict." she continued, ticking it off with her fingers. "The Solstice is in a month, and if no one returns the symbols of power, we'll all die."

"Thank you, Annabeth." Chiron sighed exasperatedly, and the little girl's face beamed before quickly resuming an angry countenance. "So," he prompted, fixing a stare on all the Big Three children. "who has the most to gain from this type of conflict? Two of the Big Three Gods are fighting?"

Luke paused in his sock puppetry, pointing a stinky, clothed hand at Bianca. "What about that other guy in your dream? You said he had bright eyes? What color?"

Bianca shook her head, "I can't remember. But it, it kind of...glowed, I guess."

"Glowing eyes!" Nico chirped, taking his hands and forming binoculars around his eyes. "Like Green Lantern!" Everyone ignored him.

Annabeth snapped her fingers. "Mr. Chiron, I think it would be Poseidon." At Mr. Chiron's approving nod and everyone else's blank stares, she gestured frantically. "You know? God of the Sea? King of Barnacles?" She took Nico's offered Poseidon action figure and shook it. "This guy?"

Jason opened his mouth to speak, before snapping it shut.

"That's _right,_" Thalia tasted the words on her tongue. "If two people are fighting, a third party can swoop in and knock them both out."

Chiron clasped his fingers together. "While most would agree blatant thievery is not Poseidon's thing, he does seem to be the most likely option right now." He looked around expectantly. "Thalia, Jason, Bianca and Nico. You will be setting off in a week towards the sea. Please get all the training you can in this time. You are dismissed."

They nodded and left, Bianca holding Nico by the hand and other two splitting off. Luke tugged at Annabeth's hand, but she wouldn't budge. Instead, she stalked up to the centaur, Luke stumbling into a run after her.

"Why am I not going?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

Chiron paused in his trot, looking back to Annabeth. "Child," he said, tiredly, "it would be too dangerous. The Big Three children would attract many monsters, but their godly parents would ensure a greater chance of survival."

"But I was the most helpful! Make Nico stay behind."

"You were, Annabeth, but your mother, Athena, does not have quite the same pull with monsters. She is intimidating, of course, but it pales to the King of the Gods and the God of the Underworld."

"That's horsesh-" Annabeth was about to say, before Luke slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Haha. You know how kids are, Chiron," Luke laughed, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him he was a child himself. "Me and Annabeth will be going now, so have a nice day!" He then dragged her off, ignoring her muffled cries of "Annabeth and I!"

* * *

For the rest of week, the children of Zeus and Hades tore through the campground.

Thalia took up the bow, shooting the targets she could hit and zapping the ones she couldn't. If she wasn't practicing archery, she was sparring in the wrestling ring with Clarisse. As strange as it was, Clarisse acted almost amiable to her. When Thalia questioned this, Clarisse merely shrugged.

"You'll be leaving soon," she explained, "I don't want the last thing I ever called you to be bitch." And Thalia agreed, making a note not to insult Clarisse until after she was back from the quest.

Bianca, on the other hand, was training with a spear. Instead of slashing, she jabbed. She even learned to twirl the spear a few times after she defeated an opponent. A Stoll (she couldn't tell which one) jokingly called her "Bian-jutsu." It was ninja reference, apparently. But just in case it had negative connotations, Bianca threw the spear after him. Just to be sure.

Jason grabbed a sword, and hasn't let go of it since. And Luke, being the nice, older brother he proclaimed himself to be, dutifully helped Jason out with his techniques. He might regret it though, especially after the fourth night he was called out at two in the morning to practice parrying.

Annabeth and Nico were shunted off on their own, and, after a quick nod at each other, began terrorizing the close combat trainers. It didn't take long for the Ares kid to cave in (though it might have taken some calculus and skulls), but soon, the two were outfitted in clunky armour and shiny knives. They helped each other, though Nico noticed Annabeth was often looking toward Chiron, as if seeking approval. He brushed the idea out of his mind, and began another flurry of attacks, chattering as he did so.

Then the end of the week came.

* * *

As the four demigods got farther and farther away, Luke and Annabeth never stopped waving. Even Chiron simply rested on the hill until the questers were out of sight.

Luke felt a slight pull on his shirt, and looked down questioningly at Annabeth. She was fisting her hands in his shirt, and her face was petulant. "I wanted to go." she muttered. Luke said nothing, and Annabeth repeated. "I wanted to go. I wanted to be with Thalia. And Jason."

"It's not fair."

Luke just patted her back, trying to communicate that he was still there.

That night, for the first time in forever, Luke abandoned his hatred for his father, his disgust of his mother, his juicy grapes, and prayed.

_I know, _Luke thought feverously, _I know I'm kind of a brat. But I'll change, I promise. All I ask is that you give me a quest I can bring Annabeth on_.

He then threw in a slab of meat. _Please._

It might have just been him imagining things, like people think they see Jesus on their toast, but he almost saw a small, winged shoe in the fire. 

Fin.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing the Romans did when they got over their shock was to drag Percy into the tunnel. As Percy swiveled his head around back and forth to catch a glimpse of any incoming cars, the troop commander lectured him on taking risks. He continued to lecture even as the mass of armed kids made way for the second honking vehicle. There was something inherently _wrong_, it seems, with the way demigods worked.

The second thing, was interrogation.

It began with Percy sitting on a hard, wooden chair while a burly teenager alternated between glaring and grumping. The rhythm was erratic, as the other would stare for a few minutes at a time, until Percy felt ready to break out into cold sweat, then clear his throat loudly.

Percy had never felt so small in his life. He also wished really hard that his mom was here, but that wasn't anything new. It had been like this ever since the wolves picked him up at his house.

Eventually, there was a curt knock on the door. The teenager cleared his throat again, and growled (Percy jumped), "Come in."

The bulky teenager then got up and waited by the door, which promptly swung open. A girl in a toga entered the room, and the two gave each other formal nods. The guy managed a solid salute, then marched out. The girl waited until he was gone before sitting down.

It was like those things you'd see at an army convention, if they existed.

Percy was soon startled out of his thoughts when the girl cleared her throat too (seriously, what's with that?) before glowering.

"What's your name?" Her hands was poised at a sheet of blank looseleaf, most likely to take down notes.

Percy jumped. "I-uh, Percy Jackson."

Her pen drew two vertical lines down the paper. "Are you always this rude? Call me sir!" she commanded, putting down her pen to smack the table.

Percy tried his best not to back away, especially since he would just tip over his chair. "I-I...Sir?"

She scoffed, and picked up the pen to draw to horizontal lines. "Any living relatives?"

_Mom_. "Yes." Percy tried to hold back the pang of homesickness. How ironic, that at the age that every kid makes their escape attempt from home, here he was, missing it.

She marked down an X, and maintained a scowl. "How old are you?" she demanded, retracing the lines of the X.

Come to think of it, hadn't his birthday recently passed? He used to be eleven, so…"12?"

She frowned. "Are you asking me or telling me?" Her pen made loops and loops until it had a big circle.

"Telling." His tone was more confident.

She made an X. Perhaps that's a good thing? "Hmmph. If you had to choose, are you a mommy's boy or daddy's boy?"

He didn't even think about this one *. "Mommy's boy."

"And proud of it." she noted. "So? Which goddess?"

Percy blinked. "Um, what?"

She was starting to look a little irritated, and Percy inwardly panicked when she made another circle. "Which goddess is your mom?"

He didn't think his mom was a goddess. Not technically, anyway. "Sally."

The girl tilted her head, marking another X. "Is that an alias?"

"Er, no." At least, Percy didn't think so. But still, it had taken him a while to realize his mom's name wasn't 'Mom'. Could he have missed her middle name, too?

The girl across from him began to fume. "Then which religion does she hail from? This is a Roman camp, kid." She drew another O, and...wait a minute...

"She's from earth…and are you playing tic-tac-toe?" he demanded.

She looked at him blankly, and drew another X. "Then from which god's loins did you spring forth?" then she paused, and added offhandedly, "I'm Cassy of the loins of Vulcan."

Percy grimaced. Days of reading Latin text ensured he knew what she was talking about. "Please don't put it like that."

The girl, now, Cassy ignored him, impatient. "Well?"

"Neptune."

He must have said something wrong, because the room suddenly went deadly silent. The girl leaned back and looked at him with a calculative eye. The silence seemed to drawn until forever before she finally came to a conclusion.

"Great." Cassy nodded. "You're hired."

Percy gaped. That was a job interview?!

She giggled at him (giggled!), and happily skipped out the door. "Our first meeting is at ten, in the Amphitheater! Be there or be square! Oh, and square is a code word for 'fed to the vultures'." Percy didn't dare move.

As she gave a half twirl, the burly teen from before rushed back in, face pale. Lupa trotted in contently after.

"Kid, kid, you are _dead_," the guy told him without preamble. "Name's Butch. Son of Ceres."

"Erm, thanks." It really meant a lot that someone bothered to tell him that. "Why?"

For his question, Percy had his shoulders gripped tightly and then shaken like a rag doll. "Cassy is an architectural fanatic," Butch muttered, still in that same horrified tone. "She'll make you study blueprints scavenged from the 1600s! Give you tests! Make you read tomes and tomes of linguistic jargon! We need to help you escape!"

Percy had no idea what the other was talking about over his lolling head, but it did sound worrisome. Especially the tests. "What do you suggest?," he tried to force out, but it came out a little slurred.

"Just don't show up for the first meeting. Wait...she said 'or be squared'. Shoot. We need a legit reason!"

Lupa, who had been watching this go on with an amused eye, finally contributed. _I could give you a quest. I'm sure that ordeal is 'legitimate' enough._

Butch brightened up. "That's true! Lady Lupa, what can you offer?" At this point, Percy would like to point out that he currently has no say in this conversation whatsoever, but decided to keep quiet before he damned himself.

Lupa feigned disinterest, observing and flexing out her claws. _There is a pesky monster quest that should be easy enough for you to complete, and tough enough for it to be seen as a worthy one._ _It's the quest your namesake is famous for. _

"Killing Medusa?" Percy blurted out, "but can't she like, I dunno, _turn me to stone with her eyes_?"

Lupa settled down on her stomach, crossing her front legs over each other. _The old Perseus did it, and so can you._

Butch, strangely, had gone silent over the course of this conversation, but Percy didn't give much thought to that.

Then Lupa delivered the cincher. _It's either this or 20-paged essays as assignment._ **

Percy didn't hesitate. "I'm doing it." He stated, turning to walk out of the room and down the hallway. The other two watched him leave.

"You know, Cassy has never jumped the gun with a person before.*** She usually makes sure they're interested first before enlisting them." Butch finally spoke again. "Lady Lupa, hasn't there been rumours of Medusa petrifying... wolves?"

Lupa didn't look up. _I guess she'll get what's coming to her then._

"You couldn't have-" His eyes widen in realization, and he looked towards to where he knew Cassy's office to be. "You...are as _vicious-_"

_As a wolf?_ she bared her fangs and gave a barking laugh. _Kid's got talent. He's all geared for survival, and ready to accept any solution. You saw, when he was out there. With a potential like that, he'll reach the status of a general._

Then her eyes tracked down where the kid in question was fumbling with a doorknob, and added, _He'll be fine._

*It might be more accurate to say he didn't _want_ to think on this any further. Upon the tender age of seven, when Percy realized that his mom was the most important person to him, he also came to the discovery that he was rather...whipped. His mom had given him a disapproving look when he dumped some paint on a girl's head (it was an ugly head, and he thought he was doing everyone a favor, really), and he apologized profusely the next day. This act also made him realize that he was a very weak-willed type of person, because he can't recall how many times he helped grandmothers cross the street, and this is **not** going well for the bad boy image he had been hoping to cultivate, and…..not thinking about it.

**No kidding. Those in Cassy's club tend to suffer periodic hand cramps. All these episodes seem to occur on the day she tells them to do an essay, coincidently.

***This, surprisingly, was true too. Cassy had strict requirements for her groupies, and the first one was that you had to have Passion!, punctuated for emphasis. Percy is definitely not interested, so from whom could she have gotten that idea…?


End file.
